Agape
by BlakeM.D
Summary: The war was won, love was in the air, and despite the toll that had been taken on the two, Harry and Hermione were happy together. But when young Mrs. Potter learns that she is with child, Fate pays the two a visit. Literally. The deity has come down to strike a bargain with the couple. Their task? The death of another world's Voldemort. The reward? Their unborn child's life.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

**AN: Hello, there! Whether you are a first time reader of mine or a returning fan, I welcome you to Agape! Named after the Greek word translating as unconditional love, this is a tale of two young lovers who will go to any lengths to ensure the safety of their child. As a solitary disclaimer for this entire story, I'll go ahead and say that I do not, in any way/shape/form, own Harry Potter or any of its related properties. Also, please note that this fic will be rated a strong M. Gore will only show in moderate amounts, but sexual insinuations and crude language are sure to be plentiful. Now that that's out of the way let's get to the damn story, yeah!**

As Harry prepared for bed, making sure it was his normal sky-blue toothbrush and not Hermione's jewel encrusted green one that his clawed hands were squeezing a dollop of toothpaste onto, he glanced up and spotted two glowing green eyes staring back at him from inside the recently cleaned mirror in his Grimmauld Place bathroom. Frowning slightly, Harry took a moment to study his relatively new appearance as he absently sawed the course white bristles back and forth across his pearly whites. After a moment's observation, the eighteen year old Potter snorted in amusement at the ridiculous image he made for. At five and a half feet tall, with the same messy black hair he'd had since forever reaching down to just above his jawline, Harry Potter figured he'd look a lot like most people had probably expected him to at this age if not for a few tiny, minute, negligible differences.

Like, for instance, what at first glance appeared to be fine, matte-black, elbow-length gloves that were actually just his perfectly normal hands which ended in not-at-all-strange diamond-hard, razor-sharp claws. Another difference was the soft glow given off by his emerald green eyes, which otherwise had remained unchanged since his birth.

'Nothing too weird there,' he thought, the glow being negligible, and save for when he looked into mirrors, it wasn't like he could see his own eyes anyways, now could he?

Harry's attempts at reassuring himself of his normality died a fiery death when his eyes were inevitably drawn to the two, once again, matte-black leathery wings which were folded up behind him. Harry scowled at the two appendages which, surprisingly unobtrusive as they were, still drew attention to themselves with proficiency more befitting one of those wailing, flashing fire alarms which had peppered his old muggle school. He was just glad that the damn things were flexible and compact enough for him to fold them down flush against his skin, allowing him to wear normal clothing as he pleased. Only in skintight apparel would they show up, and since he preferred t-shirts and robes over spandex and diving suits, keeping them hidden would prove easy enough should he ever eventually work up the courage to leave the house. Deciding that turning back now, after braving so much, would be cowardly, Harry spared his last addition a glance as he leaned forward and spat a mouthful of tartar fighting foam into the sink.

A tail. A bloody, _surprise surprise_, matte-black, six foot long, galleon thick, capped at the end in fur the likeness of a teardrop, honest to merlin, _tail_.

'Honestly,' Harry thought with a frown, 'at least the damn wings are useful'.

He knew he was being less than honest in his thoughts over his tail, but while the stone smashing power, lightening quickness, and perfect dexterity of the devilish appendage _were _useful, nothing beat flying.

_Nothing._

'Except for sex,' Harry thought, as he finished washing his mouth out and returned to his overly opulent bedroom to find Hermione sprawled out across their mattress nude, innocently pretending to read what he thought looked like a Stephen King novel. He figured it out for the ruse that it was when he noticed the arching of her back. For, while her nudity didn't exactly give her desires away (they'd been so comfortable around each other for so long that clothing was always optional in private) Harry knew that if she'd actually been interested in reading her spine would be straight and relaxed, offering her the most comfort.

Instead of comfort for her poor back, the only offering being done presently was that of a great view from Hermione to Harry. As she turned her head and, abandoning what flimsy pretenses of reading there'd been and giving him an ironically devilish smile, Harry took a moment to study the woman to whom he'd given his heart nearly four years ago.

She continued to stun him with her beauty to this day, looking as if to have been custom-made just for him by the gods. He'd told her as much once, much to her at-the-time amusement and exasperation if he recalled correctly; sure they'd both been avoiding Death Eater spellfire at the time but there was simply no stopping him when he was in a poetic mood. Returning her sultry smirk with a waggling of his eyebrows that drew a giggle from her, Harry crawled up the bed until he was lying directly behind her and propped his head up with a hand. Unable to resist himself, he brought his other hand up and caressed her rosy cheek with the back of one of his menacing digits, although his heart warmed when Hermione only smiled and leaned into his touch. Adjusting his eyes higher, he smiled at the sight of her still-damp hair.

He still fondly remembered the mostly untamable mane of long hair she'd had back in their childhood, but found that the pixie cut she'd given herself out of frustration on her seventeenth birthday had since grown on him, despite any teasing he may have given her over it in the past. Her now shorter, straighter hair left her pretty face nowhere to hide, a nice bonus to what had originally been an action taken to eliminate a combat hazard after Hermione'd had her hair snagged on a twig one too many times whilst the two of them were out horcrux hunting. As his eyes trailed down from her head and traveled all the way to her toes, making a few glorious stops along the way, he noticed how her feet stopped before his own did, and once again thanked his lucky stars that she'd stopped growing before he had. Although the solitary inch he had on her seemed negligible, he was still glad that he hadn't ended up having to look up every time he wanted to stare into her beautiful chocolate colored eyes.

"Perfect," Harry murmured, the word which had slipped out during his studying of her adding a faint tint to Hermione's already warm face.

Even things that he wouldn't've thought he'd have liked before getting together with Hermione were now, years later, the physical qualities he preferred and found most attractive. One example would be her breasts. While he vaguely remembered staring at older girls' bulging cleavage back in his single days when he'd first been entering puberty, he now found himself thinking that Hermione's comparatively smaller chest was far lovelier.

As he did whenever he looked at her recently, Harry couldn't help but notice the changes which had been forced upon her, much the same as his demonic alterations had been forced upon him, by Voldemort via the dark rituals they'd been put through only a few months ago.

Instead of splicing her with creatures too foul to live on this plane of existence as Voldemort had with him however, Hermione instead was forced through ritual after ritual after dark, _agonizing_ ritual in an attempt by the Dark Lord to fuse different magical artifacts he'd had in his possession with her very flesh. The grand majority of the madman's attempts were met with failure, the process being crude and Hermione's own will keeping any of the objects from successfully melding with her body. But, as weeks in captivity turned into months with no salvation in sight, her will weakened, just as his own had. And also just as had been his case, her rituals too were tweaked and perfected by Voldemort until the Dark Lord finally achieved the results he'd been seeking.

Harry was now staring at the end results of that evil bastard's meddling, and while he still thought that Hermione was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes on, he was thankful that there had only been time enough for Voldemort to have three dark artifacts fused with Hermione before they'd escaped.

The Arreter Amulette, originally a cursed necklace consisting of a semi-sentient, fist sized ruby attached to a dull golden chain, took form post-ritual in Hermione as tiny shards of immovable ruby embedded around both of her eyes, giving off a permanent effect similar to eye glitter. Hermione, upon seeing Harry's gaze lingering on the alteration, lost a bit of the sparkle in her eyes and her smile began to shrink. Until, that is, Harry leaned forward and tenderly pressed a kiss onto her fluttering eyelids, one after the other. No matter what, the last thing Harry wanted to do was make Hermione uncertain of his adoration for her. While he would never again see her without the shards coloring the skin around her eyes, he thought that she looked even prettier nowadays anyway.

Moving his gaze towards the manifestation of the second object to be forged into her skin, Harry appreciated the sparkle given off by the diamonds populating Hermione's face. Ten studs traveling up the cartilage in each ear framed her already jeweled face, with a diamond tongue ring finishing off the Stone of Intent's new look. Whereas it had previously been an unimpressive, inelegant hunk of uncut diamond mostly hidden inside the end of a petrified oaken staff, the bedazzling appearance it now gave Hermione was breathtaking.

'If only,' Harry thought with a smile as the mischievousness returned to Hermione's face as he tugged on her sparkling earlobe with his teeth, 'the overwhelming compulsion to own mountains of jewelry had stayed with the damn staff.' Hermione's jeweled toothbrush and the sheepish look she'd given him when she'd bought it immediately came to mind.

The third and final artifact was less glamorous than the previous two, showing up as what appeared at the moment to be a thin coat of wet, black metallic paint covering her entire neck, spanning from where her jaw began down to her collarbone, and then curving to run along her spine in a thin triangular shape which stopped just above her shapely rear. He knew from experience that Arkay's Skin, the name of the ancient Scottish necromancer's robe with which she had become one, was currently in as deactivated a mode as it got. He also knew that if Hermione were to become agitated the 'paint', which was actually not wet at all but smooth to the touch, would begin to creep down her body, expand further and further as her duress grew until every inch of her light, creamy skin was hidden beneath it.

As Harry traced one of his claws gently down the strip leading to Hermione's bottom, not applying enough pressure to hurt her despite the fact that Arkay's Skin would make such a thing impossible anyway, Harry allowed his observations of Hermione to come to an end. Feeling a shift in the man she'd been in love with for many years, Hermione turned her head to peek at what he was doing and let out a startled, "Eep!" when she was suddenly spun onto her back. Finding no Harry next to her, she looked further down and fought a blush when she saw what Harry was positioned to do. As Harry began to practice his budding cunnilingus talent, making Hermione gasp in pleasure at the sensations, she forgot any lingering insecurities she may possibly have felt earlier when Harry had stared at her changes, and instead just let her head fall back as she lost herself in the moment.

* * *

Golden rays of morning sunshine barged their way in through long gaps in the thick burgundy curtains on the east-facing windows of Grimmauld Place, slowly dragging Harry back from the realm of dreams as they fell across his sleeping face. He gave a slight frown as he decided that he wasn't ready to wake up just yet, but as he went to turn around and burry his head underneath his pillow he caught sight of the woman lying next to him. It still blew his mind to think that, after everything they'd been through, somehow they'd still managed to eke out a pretty happy life with one another. After fighting side by side against the worst dark lord to have lived in the last thousand years, it would have been so easy for their relationship to crack and shatter. Luckily, instead of folding under the pressure and growing bitter towards each other, Harry and Hermione's relationship had been tempered by the conflict, leaving behind a deep trust and understanding of one another that had strengthened their bond to the point of being unbreakable.

As he was admiring Hermione, Harry's eyes were drawn to the golden band topped with a large diamond adorning her left ring finger. The only regret Harry had over taking a knee and finally asking her to be his wife three weeks ago was that he hadn't done so sooner, back when their friends had still been alive and able to attend their wedding. As it was, the day he'd slipped the beautiful diamond ring onto her finger was still the best of his life, despite only having McGonagall, who'd done the ceremony, there in attendance. It broke his heart to think that he hadn't given her the grand wedding she deserved, and his demon blood made him feel more than a little self-loathing over the fact that he'd let his mate down, but Hermione had still seemed to radiate happiness while he'd been reading his vows to her in Headmistress McGonagall's office, and the rational part of his brain pointed out that any public wedding would have been a disaster.

Harry's mild brooding was cut short when Hermione's bejeweled eyelids fluttered open, revealing her warm brown eyes to the world. He watched on as she let out a cute yawn that showed off her perfect white teeth and studded tongue, and Harry felt his face lose the slight frown it'd had and adopt a fond smile in its place. Hermione noticed Harry's content stare and felt her lips unconsciously forming a smile, which broadened when he returned the gesture and leaned in for a kiss. Hermione started to moan into the kiss, but abruptly broke away from her husband and scurried out of bed, almost falling to the floor when the silken sheets refused to release her. When she finally managed to break free of the blankets, Hermione quickly made her way to their bathroom and immediately curled up over the toilet and threw up; Harry's panicking form hovering around her the whole time. After forty solid seconds of sickness, Hermione finally held up a hand to silence a distraught Harry and show that she was fine.

Hermione, still in the buff, stood up shakily with Harry's help and made her way over to the sink. Then, after quickly rinsing her mouth out and pulling a bath robe from the hook on the door over herself, Hermione grabbed her wand from the bedroom and cast a general all-purpose diagnosis spell on herself. She waited, and then slowly placed her hands together until they began to glow a soft golden color, signaling to her that the spell had run its course. She then pulled her hands apart and scanned the magical readout that appeared, the floating, golden, cursive writing which hovered in front of her summarizing her physical health.

She paid no mind to the list of scars that littered her body, all of which were luckily either easily hidden by clothing or were faded to the point of being undetectable by the naked eye. She briefly noticed that her alterations didn't show up on the list, confirming to her once again that they were now, for all intents and purposes, as much a part of her as her eyes and ears were. Hermione even managed to hold back the despair that always crept up her spine when she was presented with proof that the dark rituals that'd been forced upon her had tainted her core, just as it had back when McGonagall hinted that both she and Harry just _felt_ dark, and as it did once again when the spell detected it. However, no emotional fortifying on her part could have prepared her for the last item listed on the readout.

"What is it Hermione? What's wrong?" Harry asked anxiously when he saw Hermione beginning to pale.

Shakily, Hermione lowered her hands down and interlaced her fingers above her belly. Her eyes, which had tracked her hands' descent, quickly snapped back up to meet Harry's when he took a step forward and wrapped his toned arms around her slight frame.

Quietly, Harry whispered, "What is it, baby?"

When Hermione flinched at the word 'baby' he began to get suspicious, but speculation was made obsolete when his wife grabbed his hands and slowly placed them on her belly and said, "I'm pregnant, Harry."

The lovely Mrs. Potter seemed to have successfully short-circuited Harry's brain as her lover stood silently in front of their bed, dumbstruck. After a moment to process what he'd heard, Harry responded.

"Wha-really? For real? Like, with a baby and stuff?" Harry asked dumbly, shocked at the news. His eyes, which had been narrowed in concern studying Hermione's face before, were now wide open and trained on the flat belly his hands were touching at the moment. He started to gently rub his deadly hands over Hermione's abdominals, trying to feel the life tucked safely away inside. Carefully watching her lover to judge his reaction, Hermione felt a tightness in her chest loosen when Harry's surprised expression morphed into one of amazed awe. When his pawing of her belly showed no sign of stopping, Hermione brought her hands up and cupped her husband's stubble'd jaw and manually redirected his gaze back to her face.

"Yes, darling. With _our _baby. According to the spell, we're going to be parents!"

Hermione instantly transformed from a ground-bound biped into a spinning, flying missile as Harry picked her up and spun her around. He then just-as-quickly set her back down with an anxious expression on his face.

"Oh, Merlin! I'm sorry! Is that ok? Picking you up didn't hurt anything, right? Oh man! Me, a dad? God, Hermione, what if I'm terrible?! What if I screw our kid up?! How'm I supposed to know what ta- oh, oh! Books!" Harry suddenly exclaimed, his frenzied fretting coming to an abrupt end as he looked at Hermione in askance. "There've gotta be books written about parenting, right love? Right. Of course there are. Oh, but pregnancy! I've gotta read up on that too. Because you're pregnant. With my child…" Suddenly Harry's jaw shut closed with an audible *click* as his eyes focused on Hermione so intently that she jumped a little bit.

Hermione watched as Harry seemed to physically absorb the knowledge that she was carrying his child; noting how his eyes became slightly dilated and his breaths took on a ragged quality. He then silently, almost eerily, gently took hold of her sides and walked them back to the bed, until the backs of her knees hit the edge of the mattress, upon which he gently lowered her down onto. He then gently placed one knee, and then the other, on either side of her, straddling her pelvis. By now his pupils were completely dilated and he was almost panting above her. Despite his odd behavior, Hermione wasn't worried in the least; not that she'd ever been afraid of Harry before, but especially because she knew exactly what was going on.

Their changes were still pretty raw, but the two of them had learned a lot about their new selves. While their most obvious post-ritual modifications were physical, she and Harry both knew that the important changes were ones that were much more than skin deep. Hermione could tell by looking into Harry's eyes at that moment that his demonic blood was influencing him.

Very quietly, Harry asked, "Is there anything you need, love? Anything at all? Something to eat? Drink? How's the temperature? Any soreness? Just tell me what you want and I'll make it happen," Harry said with tenderness in his voice, never breaking eye contact with his mate.

After they had escaped from Voldemort's clutches, the two had scoured dozens of libraries in search of information to see if there was any way to reverse Voldemort's work. While unfortunately most books had nothing on the rituals at all, and those that did have something all concurred that the changes would be permanent, they did learn quite a bit about their new bodies. Studying up on the relics which had been infused with Hermione proved easy enough, but the demon lore they researched was very varied. There was very little in the way of consistency in the tomes they read, making trying to figure out how Harry's changes might affect him frustrating. Surprisingly enough, information on demonic relationships, both familial and romantic, was pretty much the only thing that was the same across the board. Hermione knew that whereas before Harry would have been dedicated to any family he may have had and loved her and their child with all of his heart, his demonic blood ramped up his devotion to those of his blood and his mate to an insane degree. With her being pregnant, he simply wouldn't be able to help himself. She knew that for the next nine months Harry would be very possessive, clingy, and protective. She also knew that he would be treating her like a queen though, her wellbeing, happiness, and comfort becoming his highest priorities, not that they weren't already.

While Hermione knew that this behavioral oddity should make her feel cautious and uneasy, all she could manage was fond amusement and affection towards her suddenly clingy partner.

"No, darling, I'm quite fine right now. I'll let you know if that changes, however," Hermione whispered back, Harry's lips having descended down to less than an inch above hers while she'd been responding.

"Good," Harry purred back, sending shivers down Hermione's armored spine.

When his lips completed their journey and landed upon hers, Hermione knew that they wouldn't be getting much done that day.

* * *

After a lengthy session spent _celebrating _the joyous news, Harry and Hermione were once again up and out of bed, making their way to the kitchen to satisfy a different kind of hunger. Half an hour later and the two were sat down across from each other on either side of the ridiculously long table that in the past had been used to seat the members of the Order of the Phoenix. The dark oak of the masterfully carved table combined with the candlelit steak, baked potato, and green bean dinner Harry and Hermione had just made helped to set a romantic mood. Before they dug in, Harry, with a megawatt smile spanning the length of his face, raised his glass of pumpkin juice (Hermione decided to forgo wine and he was sympathetic) into the air in a toast.

"To us," he said, while staring into Hermione's eyes. "To our friends in the past," he whispered, dropping his gaze for a second in acknowledgement. "And to our family, in the future," he finished, speaking warmly and squeezing Hermione's hand which had grasped his own when he'd raised his glass.

As the two went to take a sip of their beverages in celebration, their eyes suddenly widened when a third party made itself known with a toneless interruption.

"Your jubilation is… premature, mortals."

Cold dread rushed through their veins, but neither surprise nor fear had the power to paralyze Harry or Hermione anymore; not after so many years spent waging war against the nightmarish forces Voldemort had commanded. Those years of hard won instincts took over now as the two tried to spring up and away from the intruder, but it was all for naught, as they found their bodies unresponsive from the neck down, not allowing them to do anything more than turn and look upon the one who had disturbed them.

Try as they might, neither could make out the figure with any reliable clarity. Though it was not obscured in any way, their eyes could only decide that the figure was a brightly colored humanoid; their brains seemingly incapable of processing the invader's true form beyond that. It was an odd feeling, but still not enough to halt either of the two's attempts to free themselves. However, with none of their wandless magics responding and even Harry's extra appendages paralyzed, the situation was beginning to look grim. Realizing that their situation wouldn't be solved so easily, Harry decided to engage the being in conversation in order to buy Hermione time to work out a plan of action to deal with their predicament. While he was great at thinking up effective strategies on his feet, he acknowledged that solving this problem might take more brain-power and finesse than he had to spare.

After conveying his plan to Hermione with a quick look, Harry turned to the incomprehensible being and asked, in a harsh whisper that promised pain, "Who are you?"

He got the feeling that the being was giving him a scornful look, but its lack of discernible features made it impossible to be sure. Still, it responded to his question.

"The closest word you have to describe me would be Fate, although I've come to you more in my capacity as Death."

The being's answer did little to calm the tension gnawing away at Harry, and a slightly panicked look from Hermione made it all but impossible for him to keep himself reigned in. As it was, his muscles still began to bulge, with green arcs of magic the likeness of electricity beginning to dance around him; a sure sign that his control over his demonic side was slipping. Thankfully he managed to keep from losing it, but his tone was noticeably more menacing when he next spoke.

"And what the _fuck_ does that mean, exactly? Why are you here?"

The distaste in the being's voice was even more evident when it responded, apparently taking offense to Harry's line of questioning.

"I'll get straight to the point; lowering myself to this form is _quite_ degrading." The self-proclaimed 'Fate' responded, before it swung one arm over and pointed directly at Hermione's belly. "Your spawn, as it stands, will not survive to its nativity. The dark magics you and your partner have been doused in will cause its premature death, despite whatever efforts or measures you may take to avoid it."

Fate's words couldn't have produced a stronger reaction from the two if it had tried. Harry, at what sounded distinctly like a threat against his family, finally lost control and entered a state he'd forsaken after the final battle against Voldemort. His demonic side began to take over, lengthening his canines, dilating his pupils, and turning his veins black from the dark magic running through them. Short arcs of green electricity danced over the top of his skin, casting the room in an unsettling emerald glow. Hermione's new appearance was no less intimidating however, an impressive feat considering just how deadly the male Potter looked at the moment. Where once had been a frightened nineteen year old woman now sat a humanoid the color of wet, metallic black paint. The glistening ruby shards which framed her glowing red orbs were the only things besides the sparkling white diamonds that weren't covered in the coating, standing out even more than before due to their now-dark background and luminescence. Crimson plasma began to leak menacingly from Hermione's eyes as a low growl escaped her husband's throat, signaling that the two were ready to pull out all the stops and go for the kill.

When the two's struggling suddenly dramatically increased, the entity quickly continued.

"Control yourselves. Despite the abominations the two of you have become, your efforts are in vain, on top of being pointless. I've come here not to antagonize you, but instead to strike a bargain. I am willing to change your progeny's fate, in exchange for your assistance," Fate explained, its voice having lost its scornful tone and instead becoming emotionless.

Harry and Hermione both calmed down minutely, although they still maintained their forms, weary of the inhuman entity in general, and not exactly trusting its words at face value. With supreme effort, Harry managed to calm himself enough to participate in the conversation once again, but Hermione ended up responding before he could.

With nothing but frigid coldness coloring her voice, an otherworldly looking Hermione demanded, "Explain."

While some of the derision seemed to return to Fate at the order, it still responded.

"Long ago, in a spontaneous act of stupidity, I allowed myself to be baited into creating three items of power. You know them as the 'Deathly Hallows'. I have since lamented their creation, but despite my powers over life and death I remain unable to reclaim them. This would not be a problem, except that when combined these objects allow a portion of control to be exerted over me, which is unacceptable. Your world is but one of an unquantifiable number of worlds, and it is in one of these parallel realities that my Hallows are in danger of being united by someone who wishes to exert their will over me. It is beyond my abilities to personally take a soul before it's time; interference of that caliber being impossible. Hiring an agent to do so for me, however, is well within my capabilities. So, my proposal is this. I will erect a barrier around your womb which will act as a filter to keep any dark magics from reaching your unborn daughter, protecting her from your malignant essences, and in exchange you will destroy the one who seeks my Hallows in this alternate world."

When Fate had finished its proposal, Harry and Hermione found that they could control their bodies once again, and Harry wasted no time jumping over the table to stand next to Hermione, still wary of the entity but less hostile now that he knew it meant them no harm. He figured that there had been ample opportunity for 'Fate' to attack them while they'd been incapacitated, and took its freeing them of their paralysis as a good sign, but he kept ready anyway. No need to leave any openings, lest they be exploited, although if it was telling the truth as he was beginning to suspect it was, Harry was unsure of how well he could defend against Fate should it attack.

While Harry kept vigilant, ready to spring to their defense at a moments notice, Hermione was thinking up and dismissing possible plans of action in her head at a blistering speed, until eventually she decided that more information was required before any decision could be reached.

"Before we decide anything, I have a few questions that need answering. For example," she said with narrowed red eyes, still in full battle mode, "what exactly is meant when you say taking a soul before its time is beyond your capabilities? You sure came down here and incapacitated us easily enough. Also, why couldn't you just retrieve your Hallows, if you regret giving them out so much and they can cause you so much trouble?"

Fate took a second to consider the questions, before it responded.

"My role is very well defined in existence. Actual creation and destruction are beyond my abilities, despite what most may think. All I am capable of is moving and changing. Souls, for example. What you perceive as birth and death is, in reality, simply the recycling of a soul, which I oversee. There are no real beginnings; no final ends. While normally I may have been able to interfere and stop the one who seeks to control me, he has taken steps that make his death impossible via the methods available to me. I believe you two are familiar with that which I speak of."

Hermione let out a quiet gasp and Harry frowned in unease; horcruxes were truly vile things. Their attention refocused on Fate when it began speaking again.

"As for why I am unable to retrieve my Hallows, the answer is the same. I did not _create _them. They were parts of me that I moved into normal existence, which have since grown into their own wills. They… refuse to be reunited with me." At this, Fate seemed to flash a quick bust of depression before it recovered. The two Potters noticed the slip, but made no comment. After a moment Hermione continued.

"So, while you can't take direct action in this instance, since the destruction of a horcrux is needed to kill the collector, you _can _move us to the dimension in question and have us deal with it. You mentioned," Hermione paused to clutch her belly protectively and was only half-successful in keeping the pain out of her voice, "that our baby, daughter you said, won't make it to term without your intervention. Correct?" Hermione asked while clutching Harry's free hand like a lifeline; to discover that they were going to be parents only to then hear that their child would not make it to birth hurt in a way neither could deal with.

Neither Harry nor Hermione could detect a hint of untruthfulness in Fate's curt nod. After taking a second to center himself, Harry squared his jaw and looked straight at the entity, and said, "One last question. Why us? If you truly have access to the entire multiverse, why choose the two of us?"

Fate was silent for a few seconds, taking the time to observe the two before it answered.

"There are a multitude of reasons for why the two of you were chosen. For the most part, it is because you have already defeated the one I need you to destroy once again."

Harry's eyes tightened at the admission, but Hermione seemed to have guessed at least that much already. They shared a look as Fate continued.

"Another reason for your selection is that you have no exact counterparts in that world. Neither Harry Potter nor Hermione Granger have ever existed there, instead Daisy Potter and Jasper Granger were born in your places. While a gender change wouldn't be enough to avoid a paradox in your case," Fate said while looking at Harry, "no prophecy was made pertaining to the 'Dark Lord's' downfall there either. Daisy Potter is nothing more than a talented witch. This lack of a prophecy is actually one of the very few major divergences between this world and that one. While not too important in itself, the lack of its existence there means that Voldemort was never defeated. You have to understand, there are some worlds so similar that you could spend a thousand years studying them and never find the one minute difference between them. Others are different to the point of being unrecognizable. The similarities between that world and your own make you two the best ones for the job."

The two Potters seemed to quickly discuss the subject using only eye contact and body language, until they both turned back to Fate and Harry asked, "When do we need to decide?"

Fate's, "Now," made them cringe, but they quickly adopted resolute expressions. Sharing one last fortifying look with Hermione, Harry intertwined his deadly fingers with Hermione's now normal ones, her armor having receded back into its deactivated state, and gave Fate a nod and said, "We'll do it."

Satisfaction tinged with relief wafted off of the being as it responded. "Good. Your possessions will go with you, and all legal issues will be taken care of, both here and there. Your age will be adjusted appropriately as that world is just a little more than two years behind your own; and before you ask, no, this will neither effect your daughter nor your ritualistic alterations in any way."

Relief and disappointment both flashed through Harry, but Hermione seemed to only care that her daughter would be safe.

"You will appear on the train heading to Hogwarts, with only the Headmaster knowing of whatever background story you decide on and your ritualistic changes. Take care in your cover's creation, for while I will make the appropriate documentation and memory alterations to back up your claims, once decided upon it will be set in stone. From there everything will be up to you two." Fate took another moment to let all it had said sink in before finishing. "Ready?" Fate asked.

Hermione had already hardened herself to do whatever needed to be done to protect her daughter, and Harry's resolve, even without the demonic influence, was never in question. As one, Harry and Hermione both barked out a forceful, "Do it." and then, in a flash of white light, they were gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Harry blinked the white spots in his vision away to find that he was inside a train compartment with a shaking Hermione in his arms. Forgoing a study of his surroundings in favor of comforting his mate, Harry pulled Hermione closer to him and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Shh, hush baby, hush. Its ok, everything's gonna be alright, sweetheart, you'll see." Harry leaned back a little without letting go of Hermione and stooped his head down, trying to establish eye contact with his wife. When she opened her teary eyes he forced a smile onto his face despite the lance of agony that shot through him at the sight. "Let's look at the facts, okay Mione? We have been sent to an alternate dimension in order to deal with Voldemort once again. That's horrible, but if ever people existed for the job, it's us. But, ignoring that mess, this is a golden opportunity for us. You know that you're all I could ever need, but there's so much more for us here than there was back home. We'll actually be able to finish our educations, we won't have to deal with the pressures of being famous, and," Harry whispered, "in nine months the most amazing little girl to ever live will be born. So it's not all bad, darling. We'll make it through this, I promise."

Hermione had stopped crying, and had even sprouted a small smile at Harry's obvious love for their unborn child, but Harry could tell that the daunting task laid before them still had her unsure. Deciding that words may not be enough in this situation, he leaned in and did his damnedest to convey all of his love and support for Hermione into a passionate kiss, gently guiding her backwards until Hermione's rear was pressed up against the empty compartment's windowed side. Hermione slowly let her worries leave her as Harry began sucking on her neck, deciding that dreading the problem would be of little help and feeling eager to move on and regain back some of the emotional control she usually prided herself in having.

'Although,' she thought, 'if Harry keeps sucking my pulse point like that, control of any kind is gonna be _impossible_.'

It was not to be, however, as just when Hermione let out an erotic moan of encouragement, the compartment door slid open and the two were interrupted by a trio of "Eeps!"

Harry and Hermione, both mildly embarrassed to have been caught in such a compromising position and to have made such an impression on the very first people they'd encountered in this new world, turned to face the new arrivals, momentarily forgetting about their remarkable appearances.

While the delay between Harry and Hermione turning and the gasps let out by the three startled students who had stumbled into the compartment was short, it still allotted enough time for the two to take in the three's appearances.

There were two girls and a boy, around sixteen if they had to guess, all of whom were garbed in Gryffindor themed Hogwarts robes. The first and tallest was a pale-skinned girl with straight, coal black hair. She had deep blue eyes and a reserved air about her. Harry was faintly reminded of Sirius when he looked at her.

Next in line was who must have been Hermione's male counterpart, having ridiculously curly short hair and a stack of books held up against his chest by his thin arms. He was of average height, with eyes the exact same shade as Hermione's.

The last and most lively looking of the bunch was a short, petite redhead with brown eyes. Harry and Hermione both immediately thought that she looked like Harry's mum Lilly had, except with his dad James' eyes. They barely managed to keep in their amused snorts at the ironic thought. Harry was a little put out to note that while she too had glasses, she wore her intelligent looking rectangular, silver wireframe glasses much better than he had his old black circular spectacles back when he'd had need of them during his pre-ritual days. Interestingly, Harry thought that even if he was blind he'd still have been able to tell that she was his counterpart because of the protectiveness that his demon side felt for her; apparently an alternate version on oneself was as good as a sibling as far as his demonic blood was concerned.

Their observations complete, Hermione, her lips still a little puffy from her husband's ministrations, quickly reached for Harry's arm when she realized that strangers could, for the first time, see their alterations. After they'd escaped Voldemort's clutches, she and Harry had spent a month in secluded training trying to get used to their new bodies and integrate their new abilities into their combat styles. Then, after they'd defeated the Dark Lord, they'd spent all of their time relaxing inside Grimmauld Place, save for when they were wed at Hogwarts. The only person in their old world who had both seen them post-ritual and was still alive had been McGonagall. Harry had come to the same conclusion, and quickly decided that the only way to show that they weren't any different than normal teenagers was to act the part.

So, with that in mind, Harry forced a small grin to spread across his face as he stepped forward and said, with a slight blush from earlier still dusting his cheeks, "Hello there. I'm Harry Evans and this is my wife, Hermione. We're new to Hogwarts; gonna be sixth years if I understand correctly. Umm, sorry about that, by the way, didn't know the door was unlocked, hehe." Despite his best efforts, Harry couldn't quite hide his embarrassment and ended up falling back on one of his nervous ticks and rubbing the back of his head, messing up his already hopeless hair even more than his snog session with Hermione had.

While Harry was attempting to pat his hair down with an irritated frown stretched across his face, Hermione had both caught on to what he was doing and also remembered Fate's warning. With it in mind, she quickly put together a believable backstory for them that wouldn't cause too much suspicion, was close to the truth, and explained their strange appearances.

"Um, no-no, that's uh, okay," the curly haired brunette boy stammered out, his two companions both looking only slightly less embarrassed than him. "We were just looking for a, uh, an empty compartment," the boy said, making an attempt to maintain eye contact and failing. Finally, the taller black haired girl seemed to physically overcome the awkwardness she was feeling and step forward.

"Yes, sorry about that. I'm Clementine Black, this bumbling mess is Jasper Granger, and short-stuff here is Daisy Potter. Nice ta meet you both," she said while extending a hand that, despite a few scratches on it, was well manicured and tipped with pink painted nails. After carefully taking her hand and pressing the customary kiss onto the back, Harry then repeated the process with Daisy and shook hands with Jasper; Hermione stepping forward and doing the appropriate greeting gestures as well after him.

Harry was silently impressed by how little the three seemed to react to either of their appearances. He knew that they looked strange; besides his wings which were tucked away out of sight on the inside of his shirt, all of his demonic alterations were on display, and while Hermione's bejeweled face may not seem overtly strange, Arkay's Skin looked odd enough to make her stand out all on its own; looking every bit the unnatural substance it was.

He was also studying the three a little bit in turn; interested despite himself in his and Hermione's counterparts, and eager to see who, he was guessing, was the daughter of Sirius Black. Hermione had managed to decide on a pretty solid cover by the time everybody had been introduced, and took over conversing with the three as Harry continued his observations.

"Well, now that we've been introduced, why don't you sit with us? We don't mind sharing and it would be ever so nice to learn a little bit about Hogwarts from students who've been there for years. Unless you have somewhere else to be, or course, in which case we won't hold you?" Hermione added on, giving the three an easy way out that would put their seemingly accepting nature to the test. Presented with the opportunity to get away from the odd couple, would the three be too unsettled with their appearances to stick around?

The two Potters, now Evans, were pleasantly surprised when Daisy Potter took the lead and let out a beaming smile before plopping down across from them, with only a quick, "Nah, here's good. Thanks!"

Jasper, who seemed to have conquered his previous shyness, seemed delighted and approving of Daisy's easy acceptance; although his mild glee may have _actually_ been more at the opportunity to satiate his curiosity than any pride in his friend, although he did shoot a pleased smile at Daisy as he sat down on her right, placing him firmly in a window seat.

Clementine smiled a very fond smile at Daisy before she took the remaining spot on her left, conveying a surprising amount of tenderness in the simple action; clueing Harry and Hermione in to the fact that the Potter's quick acceptance of their oddities meant quite a bit to the dark haired girl as well. While Harry merely noted the interaction and moved on, a suspicion formed in Hermione's head that the light scratches populating the otherwise elegant Clementine seemed to support as well. She was soon forced to put her musings aside however when Jasper Granger seemed to, in a manner eerily similar to herself, finally lose control over his curiosity and break social interaction standards by questioning them about their appearances.

"So," he said while looking at the couple, "are either of you actually human? I've read about Veela and other such beings having claws while still being humanoid, but I don't think I've ever read about one with your markings as well. Are those shards _imbedded _in your skin? And what exactly _is _on your neck? It's not a tattoo, right? Looks like it's above the skin from over here. And is it just me, or are your eyes glowing? And- oh, oh no! Oh dear!" Suddenly the young Granger seemed to come back to himself and realize how invasive, almost insensitive, his line of questioning was. His shoulders curled up and he dropped his stubble-free chin to his chest, seeming quite ashamed all of a sudden.

While Harry wrapped an arm around her shoulders in support, Hermione found that she took very little offense to her quasi-little brother's line of questioning. She knew firsthand that there wasn't an ounce of malicious intent in his inquiries, as she too housed the same burning curiosity inside of her as well. Seeing this as a good opportunity to provide the cover story she had crafted earlier, as she _really_ didn't want to test and see just how long they could go without verbalizing a backstory before Fate retracted its offer to alter memories and create paperwork to support her claims, Hermione answered Jasper's questions.

"Well," she started, acknowledging the nonverbal plead for forgiveness Jasper was sending them with a simple wry smile, "I seriously doubt that you haven't read about our kind before, seeing as how much literature there's been written about witches and wizards, you not coming across even a mention would be quite strange." Silencing Jasper's interruption before he could even voice it with a raised hand, Hermione explained. "It's a little bit of a story, but as I understand it we're in for quite a lengthy ride, correct?" When the three across from her nodded their different colored heads, even though she knew exactly how long the trip was, she began what was to be their new official past; trusting in her partner's cleverness and knowing that Harry would be able to keep up with her ploy.

"Both Harry and I were born and raised in Manningtree, a tiny town over in Essex. Its' population is so small, in fact, that besides Harry's parents, we were the only magicals in the entire town. Coincidentally, I performed my first feat of accidental magic, a summoning charm directed at a book, when I was four while Harry and his parents were visiting, which scared my parents witless and surprised his. Mister and Missus Evans eventually calmed my folks down and explained everything, and from then on magic was a part of my life."

Harry had swiftly figured out what Hermione was doing and decided to keep quiet unless directly asked a question, lest he accidentally mess up a part of her tale. Still, as he listened, he couldn't help but wish that her version of events was the truth.

"When my eleventh birthday came and I received my Hogwarts letter, Harry's mum and dad convinced my parents that, with all the anti-muggle sentiments permeating Wizarding Britain, I would be better off giving Hogwarts a pass. This was also when they finally admitted that they were being specifically sought after by a group of dark wizards and that Harry wouldn't be going to Hogwarts either due to this. So, instead of attending a magical boarding school, we were taught magic by Harry's parents and their friends at home."

Hermione took a fortifying breath, her heart clenching at the thought of the parents she'd sent away to Australia with memory charms and never retrieved out of fear. Harry scooted a little bit closer to her, silently offering her comfort at what he knew was a tough subject for her. A few seconds of silence later, Hermione continued.

"Everything was great, we were learning magic and falling in love and life was wonderful, up until last October, when a trusted friend of Harry's parents betrayed us."

Harry sucked in a breath, not ready for _that_ sudden splash of truthfulness Hermione had painted into their backstory, despite the wisdom he saw in keeping things as close to reality as possible. A stealthy squeeze of the hand was all the comfort Hermione could offer him, lest she draw attention to his surprise, but he appreciated it all the same, and quickly regained his wits and changed his expression to one of anger, which was easy. He also hardened himself to whatever else Hermione felt was necessary to tell, resolving to not ruin her hard work.

"Last Halloween the group after Harry's parents, after having been told our location by the traitor, attacked us mid-celebration. We were… taken by surprise. We'd thought that-well, we mistakenly trusted that we were hidden away; safe and sound. Our parents and their friends fought back but it was… it was just hopeless," Hermione whispered, sniffling at the memory of the final battle at Riddle Manor where all that had remained of the Order had fought to the death against the Death Eaters, buying her and Harry enough time to take Voldemort and his second in command Bellatrix Lestrange down for good. While their past needed to be altered in the tale for obvious reasons, Hermione refused to not at least acknowledge their fallen comrades' roles in the defeat of the dark lord in some way.

"We were the only ones spared, having _proven_ our usefulness by taking out so many of our attackers. Instead of killing us, they stunned us and took us with them. Their _vile_ leader and his _partner_," she continued, unable to keep the black venom she felt for Bellatrix _bloody _Lestrange out of her voice, "had been crippled in the attack, and came to the conclusion that the only thing they could do was move their souls into new bodies." Hermione's voice was devoid of any emotion, including sadness, as she said this. It was the truth for the most part. While it had only been Bellatrix who'd been paralyzed in the fight that saw the two of them captured, all of Voldemort's horcruxes had also been destroyed by that point. The rituals they had been put through had indeed been in preparation for their possession at the hands of the dark lord and his, surprising as it was to learn at the time, lover.

"Six months' worth of dark rituals later, and we were what you see before you now, customized _meat-suits_ made especially for two very dark _fucks_." Here Hermione stalled, trying to decide whether or not to include the part about their 'betrayer' Peter Pettigrew and his guilt fueled freeing of them, which had actually happened. Eventually she decided against it, realizing that if she included him she would either have to lie about his demise or admit that she and Harry had torn him apart despite his attempt at 'redemption'.

By that point they had both been made into what they were today; a demonic family man and a wrathful witch packed full of dark artifacts. Attempted redemption or not, the man had personally caused the death of both of Harry's parents, and Sirius' imprisonment, and the attempted murder of Harry, _and _the _successful _murder of Cedric Diggory, AND the resurrection of Voldemort, on top of whatever other vile deeds he'd carried out as a Death Eater. The man's evil was only surpassed by his pathetic cowardice, and she felt no remorse for the way she and her lover had ripped him to pieces before they'd fled Riddle Manor.

Instead of the truth, that they'd been freed, trained for a month, and then attacked Riddle Manor with everything they had, including the remains of the Order of the Phoenix, Hermione instead simply said, "Eventually, we got lucky, we broke free, and we cleaned house. A quick stay in Saint Mungo's where they patched us up and told us that our changes were irreversible, a quicker visit to the Ministry of Magic to file for and acquire full emancipation, and," Hermione said, shifting her gaze over to Harry and squeezing his hand, "a very lovely wedding later, the two of us were enrolling at Hogwarts as sixth year students," she finished, offering the shocked trio sitting across from her an empty smile.

Daisy Potter, as a newly-sixteen year old girl, just didn't know what to think. She knew that her parents were part of the Order, but the idea of losing everybody you loved in one go and then being physically manipulated just so that your body could serve the ones who'd killed your family in the first place was too horrible for her to really comprehend. The hairs on her arm had stood up near the end of Hermione's grim tale, making goose bumps appear despite the moderate temperature of the compartment. Daisy liked to think of herself as a young woman who was ready for adult life, but she still found herself clinging onto her longtime friend Clementine's robe sleeve by the end of the grim tale.

Clementine was quite shocked as well. While certain truths of her existence made her the best prepared of the three to deal with the tale, it was disturbing nonetheless. At least her burden had come in a nonviolent way, accidentally really. She tried to imagine being strapped down to a table as her body was altered, and abandoned the thought when it sent a shiver down her spine and she felt Daisy grasping her sleeve. 'Poor Daisy,' she thought. Her friend was a ball of innocent sunshine, only capable of mischievous meddling and retaliation at her worst. Clementine knew a little bit more about what kind of threats the Order, and their parents in turn, went up against, but Daisy only knew that they worked with Dumbledore against the Dark Lord. Clementine was glad that her 'aunt' and 'uncle' had been able to raise the girl so well, while preserving her innocence, despite the troubling times they lived in. She gently pried Daisy's fingers from around her sleeve and grasped her smaller hand instead. She offered what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze, and turned back to the two across from her.

Jasper was as white as a ghost, both from the tale and the horrible feeling that he'd just forced them to relive it simply to satisfy his curiosity. While his tongue, which got ahead of him sometimes, had hurt more than a few feelings in the past, he'd never felt like as big of a screw up as he did at that moment. As he tried to both process the terrible tale and work up the courage to apologize for making them tell it, he almost missed Hermione leaning forward and taking one of his hands between her own.

"Uh-uh hey now, none of that. I recognize that expression, and believe me, if I didn't want to share our story with you guys I wouldn't have."

Jasper looked up with watery eyes, confused as to what she meant.

Hermione gave his hand a little squeeze as she offered up a small, warm smile, before she leaned back and intertwined her fingers with one of Harry's claws. "I get it, our appearances are quite strange. If glamours worked on us, I'd be sure to wear one, but they don't, and we are going to look like this for the rest of our lives, so I figured that there was no point in keeping the _'whys'_ a secret. It sucked, still does to be quite honest, but it is what it is, and neither whining nor being secretive are going to help us," Hermione finished, hoping that her words had helped settle her counterpart at least a little.

"It's like this," Harry said, mildly surprising the compartment due to how silent he'd been while Hermione had told their story, "we are what we are, and I refuse to be embarrassed about it. If a little bit of insight might make others a tad more accepting, then I'm all for it, 'cause after all the shit we went through, I'm certainly not gonna apologize for the way I am, and I'm _definitely_ not gonna put up with any shit headed our way. So don't feel bad for asking questions, you're not gonna offend us or anythin'."

Jasper, with his eyes closed, let out a relieved sigh and offered the two apologies anyway.

"Still, sorry about that. Swear I'm more tactful ninety-nine percent of the time."

Daisy's eye roll and her, "Well that's a lie," finally managed to break the somber atmosphere and drew a laugh out of the compartment's occupants.

The rest of the train ride, crazily long as it was, was spent with the two groups getting to know each other better. Harry found that while Jasper was like a male Hermione, Daisy's personality was very different than his own had ever been, which he realized was probably due to her parents still being alive. He was most interested by Clementine however; who he found out was Sirius and Remus' blood-adopted daughter. He'd had no idea the two had that type of relationship, although he figured that twelve years _was_ plenty of time for people's feelings to change. He also found it humorous how Hermione and Jasper seemed to be drawn towards one another, their similarly bright personalities making for some interesting conversations.

Eventually, after a lengthy and friendship-building trip, the train finally came to a stop at the darkened Hogsmeade Station. After the group had disembarked from the magic-run steam-machine, Harry and Hermione said their goodbyes and headed over to a booming Hagrid who was calling for the "Firs' years," to come to him. While they garnered more than a few curious looks from the surrounding students, their changes were largely hidden by the cover of night, meaning that the people who cared to look were mostly confused as to why two of the first years were so tall, not that any of them cared enough to go over and ask.

Finally, after all of the new students had been rounded up, Hagrid led the group down the dirt path toward the docks. When they arrived, and after listening to Hagrid give his, "No mor'n four to a boat," order, Harry and Hermione found themselves waiting until all of the youngsters had grouped off and boarded before claiming one of the last boats for themselves. With a quick verbal order of, "Forward!" from the half-giant, the boats began their smooth glide across the Black Lake and towards Hogwarts.

Hermione was enjoying the atmosphere, the hushed whisperings of children being the only sound on the still September night. She was admiring the crescent moon prominently displayed in the clear night sky, surrounded by twinkling stars that only enhanced its beauty. She was broken from her musings when Harry shifted the shoulder she was leaning against and began talking.

He too must have been aware of their atmosphere's serenity, for his voice never climbed above a whisper as he said, "S' incredible, isn't it? To think that, out of the billions of people on our planet, and the trillions more choices that those people could have made, and the _infinite _number of universes that apparently exist, that somehow _we'd_ end up _here_, on the boat ride to Hogwarts, once again? What are the odds?" Harry pondered, almost wistfully. Hermione smiled and snuggled further into Harry's shoulder, enjoying his body's warmth. As she was getting comfortable, Harry's thoughts had traveled from the craziness of their situation to the realities associated with said situation.

'It's gonna have to be different this go around. Shit,' Harry thought, with memories of the previous war running through his head. 'no way I make it through another round of that bullshit, no bloody goddamn way. I'd go _mental_, an' I got too much to live for ta be checking out early. Right-o then, old boy, let's think this one through right quick. A Voldemort who was never banished is bound to have his shit in order, but as long as I play it smart I'll have the edge. I've got that fuck's number, so when the time comes to punch his card I should be able to manage, s'long as his stupid soul-jars are in the same places as last time. It won't be easy, but it will be _possible._ There's just gonna be one problem…' Harry thought, as he turned his head to rest the side of his jaw atop Hermione's head.

'Twas beauty, killed the beast,' Harry thought sardonically, already dreading the impending conversation (argument) he was about to have with the missus. After smiling for a second at the thought, Harry hardened his resolve and pushed Hermione away a bit so they could do this face to face. Well that, and it was well difficult to refine his argument against Hermione when the girl was wiggling about on his lap; no doubt that, if questioned, she'd say that she was just trying to get comfy, but _damn_ did it make him want to turn this PG boat ride into an X rated voyage. Banishing the thoughts away like and angry god, Harry thought, 'fuck it,' and decided to just bite the bullet and say what needed to be said. Like a _man._ Like a man with dignity. With pride! A man who was confident in himself, and who could say what was on his mind and stand by it, goddamnit!

"Hey, um, sweetie-pie?"

'Dammit man, what the hell was that?!'

Hermione raised an unimpressed eyebrow, looking at Harry with a what-the-hell-was-that-stupid-ass-name-for, kind of Look. Hermione was very good at giving Looks, capitalization intended.

Harry turned away and cleared his throat in embarrassment before trying again.

"Well, you see, there's something I was wantin' to talk to you about…"

Cue a yes-I-gathered-that-much-dear Look from his partner.

'Since when did Hermione get so firggen sarcastic?' Harry thought silently before continuing out loud with, "It's like this."

Finally Harry decided to become serious with his wife, straightening up his posture and squaring his shoulders. Hermione subconsciously mimicked him, adopting an air of cautiousness about her at his sudden change in attitude.

"I'm going to need you for this; we both know that there is no way in hell I'd be able to take Tom down by myself." Harry raised his pointer finger to shush Hermione when she made to comment, already knowing what she would say and not wanting to lose his nerve at what would no doubt be a heartwarming declaration of support from his wife. While Harry felt bad at the frown his cutting her off had put on Hermione's face, he forged on regardless. "You've always had my back Hermione, ever since first-year Halloween night when you took the rap for me n' Ron, you've been there for me. But things are different now. Now, you're not just my brilliant girlfriend. _Now_, you're my _pregnant wife_. Pregnant being the operative word here, though the wife bit is important too. What I'm trying to say is, sweetheart, I'm sorry but you can't fight out in the field with me anymore, I won't allow it."

Harry knew the moment the words left his lips that he really, _really, _shouldn't've said 'allow it', like that. It came off making him sound like he thought that, as the man of the relationship, he had some sort of right to make Hermione's decisions for her. Already feeling the hot water he was in beginning to boil, he rushed to explain.

"Not, 'I won't allow it', like I'm making the choice for you, but more like 'please-dear-I-feel-very-strongly-about-this', allow it."

Slightly assuaged by his explanation, Hermione said, "I know what you meant, Harry, but still, don't talk to me like that. Like, ever. 'I won't allow it'. Pheh, the fuck, like I'm some sort of pet or something."

Harry winced at her comment, but could see that her indignation at his poor choice of words was already passing. Taking care to take care, Harry gave it another go.

"Yeah, sorry about that. You know I didn't mean it like that. But you do agree with me, right love? The middle of a firefight is no place for a pregnant woman."

When he saw her starting to get huffy again, Harry said, "Like I said earlier, I _need _you. I can't do this alone, but your role in this war has gotta be more passive than last time, because it's different now. You know I'm right in this one, Hermione"

Hermione's heart and protective instincts were warring with her desire to support Harry in the battle against the Dark Lord, with neither side giving an inch. Finally, after a few silent minutes during which they'd had to duck under the overhang and Hogwarts had come into view, Hermione let out a long sigh and responded.

"Okay, Harry, okay. I'll let you take the lead this time." Before he could whoop in joy, she continued with a severe expression on her face. "But only until our daughter is born! I don't care how much you plead Harry, I live in this world too, it's also _my_ daughter who will be growing up here, and I have the same right to protect it and her as you do!" Hermione's brow crinkled a bit before she continued by saying, "And don't think that just because I won't be heading out to battle that I won't participate if trouble comes knocking! You married the wrong woman if you were looking for a girl who'd sit back and let her _man_ protect her. You know that chauvinistic bullshit pisses me off, and you've got another thing coming if you think that it's anything other than my pregnancy that'll be keeping me from hunting those bastards down with you! Do we understand each other?"

Harry could only nod obediently at Hermione's trademarked no-nonsense attitude. While it had annoyed him in his earlier years, and indeed still managed to sometimes, Hermione letting her passion for something bleed into her speech usually only served to turn him on these days. Not that he let his deliciously hot wife's words just wash over him or whatever; when she talked like this he heard every word she said, and in this case he couldn't help but wish that Hermione was just that little bit less stubborn. Still, he'd take what he could get, and the two sealed the deal with a kiss.

When they parted, they realized that they had arrived at some point and were among the last few still in their boats. Harry quickly hopped back onto dry land and did the gentlemanly thing, offering his hand to his wife; whether chivalry was equal to feminism or not, Harry Potter just didn't have it in him to _not _help his pregnant wife out of a boat. That'd be ludicrous. Thankfully Hermione didn't seem to mind too much as she easily accepted his clawed hand's steady support as she hopped out of the boat effortlessly; while technically pregnant, she knew that she couldn't be more than a month in and her lithe figure won by years of fighting wasn't yet encumbered by a swollen belly. After dusting themselves off, they followed behind the first years as the group was led towards the doors of the Great Hall, greedily taking in the achingly familiar scenery. In this world inhabited by strange new people, the couple took comfort in the profound _sameness _that was Hogwarts.

As the two were enjoying being back inside of Hogwarts' homely stone walls, they were suddenly drawn out of their state of reminiscence by the abrupt appearance of the school's ghosts and the shrieks they drew from the firsties. Smiling fondly and shaking her head in disapproval at the tradition, Harry and Hermione respectively turned to look at the stern faced witch they both knew and loved as she exited the Great Hall and came to stand in front of the group, allowing for the rest of the students seated at their house tables to be seen for just a second.

Once McGonagall had finished conversing with Hagrid she thanked him and let him head into the Great Hall, giving the surrounding students a better look into the room in which they would be having the majority of their meals for the next seven years. Not allowing the group's attention to wander, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and began what seemed a well-rehearsed introduction.

"Attention, students, quiet down now; a few words before your sortings, if you will?" With the students, antsy to head inside, quickly going silent, she continued. "Very good. Now, before you go in, it is important for you to understand how your sorting will affect your experience here at Hogwarts. For the grand majority of each year, for the next seven years, you will spend your time studying in your house dormatories, eating at your house table, and attending, befriending, and generally living with your housemates. While here, the boys and girls of your house will become like a family for you, being rewarded and punished as a group via house points. While you are ultimately responsible for yourself, through house points you will learn that your negative actions: late work, tardiness, and general rule-breaking, have a larger impact than your immediate punishment, and also that your positive actions: question-answering, peer-assisting, and exemplary work, will see your house gain points, teaching you that the successes of an individual benefit their group as well.

There are four houses at Hogwarts, each equally as noble as the others and each championing different core values. Gryffindor's Lions, picked for their bravery and senses of honor, will spend their years garbed in red and gold with myself serving as their Head of House. Hufflepuff's Badgers, known for their loyalty and work ethic, are adorned in black and yellow and will have the pleasant Pomona Sprout to lead and guide you as Head of House. Ravenclaw's Eagles, all knowledge seekers and owners of great wit, can be identified by their sharp blue and bronze trimmings and will enjoy Filius Flitwick's cheerful and intelligent guidance as their Head of House. Slytherin's Snakes, cunning and ambitious, will spend seven green and silver years with Horace Slughorn as their Head of House."

When she had finished her speech, her slight distain for Slytherin house kept mostly from her tone to the point that only Harry and Hermione picked it up, she then called for the first years to line up single-file before heading over to the two obviously not eleven year olds who had remained unnoticed by the younglings by staying behind them.

"Mister and Missus Evans, I presume?" the stern professor asked, reacting remarkably little to the two's appearances. Beyond a slight widening of her eyes and a quick, intense study of the two, McGonagall showed no other reaction to their oddities, leading them to correctly assume that the Headmaster had filled the staff in on at least the basics of their situation.

The two offered the professor small smiles before Harry stepped forward and offered his clawed hand, which the professor took. Leaning forward and pressing the customary kiss onto the back of McGonagall's barely-wrinkled hand, Harry said, "It's a pleasure, professor. I do hope that we were correct in following the first years rather than heading up with the carriages," Harry said with a questioning lilt to his voice, "We met a couple of your lions on the Express and they were kind enough to let us in on the sorting ceremony, so our thinking was that we were to accompany the other unsorted students. Were we correct?"

'At least he has decent manners,' McGonagall thought. She then, after resisting an eye roll at Harry's charm, made to reassure the two. "Yes, Mr. Evans, the two of you are right where you're supposed to be. Now, I was just coming over to welcome the two of you to Hogwarts and to let you know that your names will be called for sorting, after a quick introduction by the Headmaster, before the first years, to help keep from turning your attendance into a spectacle. Are you both ready?"

After taking a moment to feel gratitude for the kind old man's thoughtfulness, the two 'Evans' nodded in agreement, after which they were led to the front of the line by McGonagall. None of the first years complained at being skipped, since the thought of being the focus of the entire hall's attention by being in the front was nerve-wracking, not to mention they were getting their first good look at the two and were far too shocked or scared to say anything.

As Minerva pushed the great oaken double doors open and swept inside, Harry and Hermione, followed by the first years, trailed behind her. While the entire group was feeling quite nervous, only the firsties let their emotions show, Harry and his lover having both donned the carefully crafted masks of boredom they'd created back in their days as prisoners in Riddle Manor. Compared to there, where nearly any kind of emotion had to be hidden away lest it be used against them, resisting the temptation to fidget under the mutterings and surprised expressions of the hall's occupants took no great effort, despite the intensities their whisperings climbed to when they caught sight of the two. While Hermione's short hair was only slightly uncommon among witches, and Arkay's Skin was somewhat hidden beneath her robe, the half of it that _did _show, combined with her jewel populated face, of which only the diamonds looked normal, gave her a very striking appearance. When compared to Harry, however, Hermione looked downright ordinary. As he strode in, keeping every emotion other than disinterest from showing on his face, everybody noticed the black claws which swung easily at his sides. And, while only a few of the hall's occupants noticed the slight glow to his eyes, almost all of them saw the devilish tail which swayed to and fro, lazily drawing circles and other shapes in the air behind him. By the time McGonagall finally signaled them to stop, about ten paces away from the three legged wooden stool, upon which sat the ragged old Sorting Hat, everybody in the hall had their attention focused on the two strangers at the head of the first years.

Albus Dumbledore, deciding to spare the two who he knew had been through quite enough already any more drama, swiftly rose from his quasi-throne at the head of the staff's table and cleared his throat, his powerful presence combined with the action proving to be powerful enough to draw the hall's attention and earn their silence. Sparing the two a quick sympathetic look, Dumbledore began his introduction.

"It is not often that we have a young man or woman come to us in pursuit of an education who have already begun learning magic elsewhere, but this year we are blessed with two such cases. Students, staff, please join me in welcoming to Hogwarts, sixth year students, Harry and Hermione Evans!"

While all of the staff and about a quarter of the students clapped politely, the majority of the hall stayed silent as they were either too shocked, confused, or revolted to join in with the greeting. Neither war veteran let those students who stayed quiet get to them, instead returning the kind gesture with warm smiles directed at the staff table and those students closest to them who'd clapped, namely the trio they'd met earlier. When the applause died down, which didn't take long, McGonagall cleared her throat and began the sorting.

"When your name is called, you will come forward, sit on the stool, and place the sorting hat on top of your head. Harry Evans," she called, offering him a look that managed to look supportive despite her lack of a smile.

Harry, after a quick turn and smile directed at Hermione, strolled forward with a calm expression on his face, having lost his apathetic mask after the Headmaster's kind gesture. With an exaggerated waggling of his eyebrows directed at Hermione, Harry grabbed the tip of the Sorting Hat with his tail and placed it on his head with a flourish, before gracefully taking a seat on the stool. His mischievous gesture and Hermione's accompanying tinkling laughter seemed to ease some of the, well, _unease_ from the students.

Back on the stool, the sorting hat was judging Harry's character silently. Though it couldn't actually read its wearer's mind or see their memories, it could get a general feel of the person under its brim's personality. The overwhelming sense of loyalty the young man below it felt almost had it saying Hufflepuff, but the equal amounts of reckless courage and deep seeded beliefs of right and wrong had the hat reconsidering its assessment. A few more seconds were spent with the aged cap mulling the decision over, but eventually it saw that there was only one house in which its wearer could belong to.

After a mighty cry of, "Gryffindor!" the leathery cap was removed by Harry and gently set back on top of the ancient stool. As Harry made his way over to the Gryffindor table to the, unsurprisingly, less-than-rowdy applause of its members, Hermione was called up for her turn under the headpiece. Just as it had in the past, the Sorting Hat was once again swayed away from placing the brilliant witch in Ravenclaw by the young woman's profound sense of fairness and her bone-deep bravery. After another exclamation of, "Gryffindor!", and another round of applause from her new housemates, Hermione made her way over to her husband, who had found them seats across form the trio they'd met on the Hogwarts Express. She only had time to share a quick kiss with Harry and offer the trio a smile before the next student, an actual first year this time, was called forward to be sorted.

Joining their housemates, who had mercifully left them alone, in congratulating their newest members, Harry and Hermione were both more than ready to dig into the lush feast that popped up after the last eleven year old had been sorted and Dumbledore had given his customary welcoming speech. After all, besides a snack from the trolley on the Express, neither had had anything to eat since dinner a day and a half ago. As Hermione was loading their plates down with thick slices of ham, it being out of Harry's reach, she was suddenly overcome with a craving for red potatoes. She looked left, and then right, but even her keen eyes couldn't spot the spuds she desired, and without bothering to censure herself she whispered, "How in the hell are there no red potatoes at an English feast?"

Harry, not quite hearing exactly what she'd said, "Hmm?" 'd in question while accepting the basket full of rolls Jasper was passing to him.

Hermione placed his plate, now weighted down with juicy pink ham, back in front of him and accepted a roll before replying with a slight frown, "Nothing, I was just think about how good a few sliced, buttered red potatoes would be right about now. You know how I like them, right Harry? With some butter, salt, and a little bit of pepper…"

Suddenly Harry stilled, his emerald orbs focusing intently on Hermione's goddess-like visage, the flickering light given off by the candles floating overhead reflecting back at him in her rubies. As a half-demon he literally _couldn't _forget, but Hermione admitting to having a craving suddenly reminded him that his mate was carrying their child, subsequently reminding him that it was _his _responsibility to see her wants and needs met. A spark of devoted madness flickered behind Harry's focused orbs as he looked at the woman who carried his seed.

While Jasper had been drawn into conversation by one of the younger Gryffs, Daisy and Clementine were both looking up when they noticed Harry's sudden change in demeanor. While they'd both absently noticed that he was quite handsome back on the express, the majority of the attention they'd spared to his looks had gone to his claws and tail, before they'd been too swept up into Hermione's telling of their tragic story to bother with such thoughts. Said 'thoughts' were suddenly racing through both girls minds as they were struck by just how intense the young man looked at that moment, his angular face's sudden lack of emotion contrasting dramatically with his eyes which had darkened with _something_. That same unknown factor was audible in his voice when he replied to Hermione's seemingly offhanded remark with a breathy, "Oh?"

His sparkling spouse must have heard the peculiar quality of his voice as well, for she turned; she must have also known what it meant better than either of the other girls too, as her whole face lit up in a blush when she saw Harry looking at her with _those _eyes.

Before his mate could get a word out, Harry suddenly rose from his spot on the bench with an otherworldly grace, his five and a half foot frame inexplicably gaining a towering quality out of nowhere. Ignoring the questioning looks he was suddenly garnering from the surrounding students and some of the staff, Harry slowly let his gaze sweep about the hall until his eyes landed on something at the one table positioned differently than the rest. Fluidly stepping over the bench upon which he'd previously been sat, the world-hopper made a beeline for the staff table, specifically for the small platter of red potatoes which sat in front of one of the few people he was scared to interact with.

The beautiful redhead seated behind his prize seemed not to have aged a day past twenty, looking exactly the same as she had in the pictures of her he'd owned in the past. Lilly Potter, mother of two and Muggle Studies professor according to Daisy, lowered the fork-speared chunk of potato which had been on its way to her dainty mouth and looked up at Harry with a quizzical expression on her face, seeming to be more surprised that he'd randomly come up to her than taken aback by his appearance. There were two main reasons Harry was dreading interacting with the woman. Well, really it was just one reason; he was afraid of how she would react to him, but it could be bad either way, in his mind. Either she would be repulsed by him and shatter his heart, or she would be accepting of him and Hermione and he would instantly fall in love with the woman, which he felt would be a betrayal of his real mother who had _literally_ died for him.

Regardless of his own feelings on the subject, his mate had expressed her desire for something, and as her husband it was his duty to see her needs fulfilled. So, manning up, Harry cleared his throat before trying to quietly explain himself to his 'mother'.

"Excuse me, Professor Potter?" he asked, feigning uncertainty. As if he could ever confuse this woman for someone else.

"Yes, Mister Evans? And excuse me for asking but, have we met? It's just, you seem quite familiar and you know my name…" Lilly responded, quite aware of whom he reminded her of but unwilling to just come out and say that he looked _exactly_ like a Potter, due to how odd that would be. She was honestly curious as to how he knew her name though.

Harry was decidedly proud of himself for not descending into a blubbering pile of mush at the sound of his mother's voice. His _mother!_ Keeping his face politely neutral, Harry continued, only managing to stop his voice from hitching with a herculean effort.

"Oh, no, Mrs. Potter, not that I know of. Actually, Hermione and I met Daisy and her friends on the train and she told me that her mum was a professor here, Muggle Studies if I remember correctly. The two of you look almost exactly the same so I'd just assumed you were you. That you were her. That, uh, she was you? That you are Daisy's mum. Which you've already confirmed. Ugh," Harry sighed, too tired after the long day to regulate his conversations and make sure he didn't show the woman in front of him enough of himself to be judged. All he wanted to do was get his wife her damn potatoes, eat, and curl up around Hermione and go to sleep. Suddenly dropping the polite aloofness he'd been maintaining all day, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and simply said, "Look, my wife really wants some red potatoes, and with her eating for two I'm trying to make sure she gets a full plate, so I was really hoping that you wouldn't mind parting with a few. You don't mind, do you, if I grab a bowl of them for her?"

Lilly's emerald eyes suddenly snapped over to Hermione's sitting form and studied her, looking for a physical tell of the young woman's pregnancy. While only professor McGonagall, who had been sitting to Lilly's left, overheard him, she too looked surprised at the information, signaling to Harry that the Headmaster hadn't shared the details of his relationship with Hermione, or her pregnancy, with the rest of the staff; if he himself even knew…

When Lilly's eyes traveled back to Harry, sparing the wedding band on his left hand a quick look, she offered him a warm smile before nodding her approval. "Of course, I had no idea. When did the two of you find out, if you don't mind me asking?"

Harry, sporting a relieved smile at finally acquiring his treasure, responded to the redhead after he'd absently conjured a glass bowl for the spuds he'd been seeking and floated them out in a line, not noticing the widening of the two professors' eyes when he did so wandlessly. "Believe it or not, we actually just found out this morning," Harry said as his eyes slid back over to where his partner was sat, absently noting that almost nobody in the hall was still paying him any attention, and saw that she was watching him with an amusing mix of exasperation and fondness. He gave her a mixed expression of his own in return, a smile that was part sheepish acknowledgement that he couldn't help himself and part a, whatever-you-know-you-love-me defense of his actions.

Lilly watched the exchange intently, perhaps not catching every little nuance but certainly getting the gist of the two's interaction. While she wasn't exactly a nosey witch she was certainly curious, and there was something about the pair that drew her attention. While true that they had drawn many peoples' attentions that night, Lilly wasn't convinced that it was their unique appearances that kept drawing her eye, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out what else it could be. Both Lilly and Harry were startled out of their thoughts when McGonagall spoke up, not loud enough to be overheard but still enough to draw the two's attentions.

"Just this morning? So she's your fiancée then, not your wife?"

Harry immediately swelled up in indignation and Lilly inexplicably found herself with the urge to come to his defense. The young man turned and trained smoldering green eyes, eerily similar to Lilly's own, on McGonagall for a few moments. After visibly taming his anger and letting a low breath out, Harry responded to his Head of House.

"While I quite _resent _your insinuation that I only proposed to _take responsibility, _I suppose that is what people who are quick to jump to conclusions would think. But you're wrong professor. When Hermione had her first bout of morning sickness she ran from _our _bed into _our _bathroom in _our_ house. I didn't receive a floo call from my girlfriend telling me that she was pregnant; I had been there panicking next to my _wife _when we found out together."

McGonagall looked properly abashed at her faux pas, and Harry realized that he had been just a tad harsh in his words and made to apologize. "Sorry, Professor. I didn't mean to bite your head off or anything, today has just been a long day," Harry said, lowering his head in slight shame and exhaustion. Minerva had always supported him back home, and if this McGonagall was anything like his own, she didn't deserve the scornful tone he'd used.

Still feeling slightly awkward due to her blunder, wanting to apologize, _and_ not wanting to keep the lad from his lady any longer, Minerva said, "That's quite alright, Mr. Evans. I too apologize, for assuming things without having taken the time to get to know you. You don't seem the irresponsible type, but dealing with young adults is part my profession, and past experiences leave me with the poor inclination to assume sometimes. Once again, I apologize. I will of course make the married quarters in Gryffindor tower available to you. A man should be there for his wife, especially during her pregnancy. Speaking of which, don't let me keep you any longer; I believe you came up here originally to get Mrs. Evans a few of these delicious potatoes?"

Lilly smiled a small smile when she saw how easily Harry accepted Minerva's apology, and even let out a girlish giggle when he suddenly jumped and looked down at the bowl full of potatoes cradled delicately in his black claws. His enjoyment of the sound of Lilly's laughter not being quite enough to completely erase his embarrassment, Harry took an abashed step back before responding.

"Ah, yeah, you're right. Better get back before they get cold. It was nice talking to you, Professor Potter, Professor McGonagall. See ya later," he said as he started to turn around to walk back. He was halted by his mother's call of, "Congratulations, by the way, Harry!" He wasn't the only one surprised by the redhead's outburst or sudden use of his first name; and even Lilly looked startled by the slip. Still, as he let her words sink in, Harry found it impossible to hide the wide grin that spread across his face. Original or not, his mum had just congratulated him on his daughter! Flashing Lilly a smile usually reserved for Hermione, Harry didn't bother to verbalize his thanks, his expression conveying his happiness at her clearly enough. Lilly found a similar smile growing across her own face at the boy's cheery grin, once again feeling that strange pull from him that both warmed her heart and made it ache simultaneously.

As she sat mulling the feeling over, still smiling as she looked back down at her plate, Harry made his way over to the Gryffindor table and retook his seat next to Hermione. The good mood Lilly's comment had created showed no sign of dissipating and left Harry feeling playful. Quickly conjuring a velvety red serviette over the bowl, Harry held the container in one hand and, with a slight bow, whipped the napkin away from the bowl, dramatically revealing the red potatoes hidden beneath. "My queen," he intoned, absently transfiguring himself a thick, curly black mustache and a little black bowtie to go along with his butler persona, "Your spuds have arrived." Harry held the solemn expression for a second before waggling his eyebrows, looking even more ridiculous by maintain the serious expression despite the gesture. Hermione couldn't take it anymore and took the bowl from him as her delighted smile morphed into involuntary laughter. As Harry's face broke out into a grin as well, the Gryffindors surrounding the two decided to question them on their oddities later, not wanting to intrude on the happy couple.

Almost an entire hour passed as the hall enjoyed the feast, taking the opportunity to catch up with friends they hadn't seen in two months and exchange stories and gossip. However, as the meal drew to a close, Albus once again stood up and called the hall to attention with a food-vanishing clap. With the students falling silent, he began.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, I would like to once again welcome you all back to Hogwarts. In these trying times, it does my heart good to see you all return, safe and sound, for another year of learning. I hope you all are as excited as I am for classes tomorrow," he said, drawing scattered groans from some of the students, putting a smile on his face, "but for now, I bid thee, goodnight."

Taking that as their signal, the fifth year prefects from each house stood up and called for the first years to follow them, each eager to prove their worth by excelling in their first duties in their new stations. Once the firsties had been led away, the rest of the students got up and headed out as well. Harry and Hermione only made minimal efforts to seem to not know where they were going by following their year mates, too caught up in teasing and playing with each other to pay much attention. After following the rest of their red and gold brethren up to Gryffindor Tower, Hermione and her goofy-acting husband were unsurprised to find Professor McGonagall waiting for them, she having gone up with the first years and their accompanying fifth year prefects earlier.

When the two came into view she waived them over, drawing a few curious glances from their housemates, but for the most part the lions were too tired to pay their two most unique new members any attention. Getting their giggling under control, the two sorta-newlyweds made their way over to the stern-faced transfiguration instructor, not quite managing to banish the grins from their faces; Hermione's gem-encrusted face combined with her smile to make her look especially beautiful in the low light.

"I just wanted to let you both know that your room," McGonagall said to the couple, "is just through that door." The transfiguration mistress raised a hand vaguely in the direction of a nice wooden door with golden trimmings, the odd color combination strangely charming instead of ugly as Hermione thought the two colors together would be. Well, even after all these years, she still couldn't exactly claim to be a fashionista. Harry didn't pay too much attention to the colors of the door to their new 'home', too busy taking in the familiar sight that was the Gryffindor common room. While it'd been years since he'd lived in the tower, when compared to the tent he and Hermione had shared while hunting horcruxes, or worse the cupboard under the stair, only in Grimmauld Place had he ever felt as at home as he did here. McGonagall made as if to lead them on a tour of their new quarters, but ultimately had to settle for wishing them a goodnight when she saw a distraught first year tearing up, no doubt missing his home.

Despite the crying of the teary-eyed firstie, Harry's good mood persisted, as made obvious when he, appropriately enough, picked his wife up bridal style and began to make his way towards their door, ignoring the attention his actions and Hermione's delighted shriek had drawn. After dramatically kicking the door open and carefully maneuvering Hermione through the archway, Harry closed the gold trimmed portal behind him with a kick.

While outside the room most of the tower's occupants were copying Daisy, Jasper, and Clementine's bewildered expressions, inside the room Harry had made his way, Hermione quite literally in hand, to their bed, ignoring the rest of the room for the most part. After he'd spun in a circle and gently laid Hermione down on the crimson blanketed four poster bed, Harry crawled on top of Hermione smoothly, taking care to avoid putting pressure on her belly.

"Aye, tonight be lookin' like a fine night for booty plunderin'," Harry said, wandlessly conjuring an eye-patch and adopting a pirate accent. Hermione's eyes sparkled and she immediately burst out into giggles; Harry had discovered her weakness for impersonations on Harry's sixteenth birthday when they'd gone to see Independence Day. He'd been saying some of Will Smith's one-liners after they'd left while impersonating him and it'd cracked her up. Over the years he'd gotten even better, and he could often be found busting them out whenever he was feeling sufficiently playful.

"Well? What say ye?" Harry asked, looking completely ridiculous.

"Aye aye, captain," Hermione replied, smiling as she pulled Harry down for a kiss.

'Yes,' Hermione thought as Harry started lavishing her with kisses as she absently cast a silencing charm over them, 'maybe this new world won't be so bad after all.'


End file.
